


Fascinating

by oldmythologies



Series: Miscellaneous Voltron AUs [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cultural Differences, M/M, Shiro's Fun Year, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmythologies/pseuds/oldmythologies
Summary: Ulaz is a good doctor. The mark on the Champion's arm that matches his own won't stop Ulaz from saving his life.





	Fascinating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quiddity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiddity/gifts).



> I forgot to post this here, my gift for quid from the Galra Gift exchange <3

Ulaz was less than pleased, to say the least, when the Champion ended up on his table once more. There was only so much he could do; every time he was brought in with another cut artery, a burn, a collapsed lung, Ulaz was sure sure it would be the last. This was somehow even worse than usual.

His eyes alternated between squeezed tightly shut and pulled open wide, hazy and unfocused as he searched the ceiling for something he couldn’t quite place. He shook on the table.

The guard that had finally made the decision to bring him in and saluted with the customary _vrepit sa_. He marched off before Ulaz could return the gesture; Ulaz wouldn’t have anyway.

The Champion was drenched in sweat, his tattered over-shirt clinging to the threadbare body suit, but even with the mix of liquids and darks and lighting, Ulaz could tell something was unnaturally darkening the right arm. He followed it down to the hand.

If he wasn’t a doctor, if he wasn’t used to it, if he hadn’t trained his stomach with years of practice, he would have been sick. Ulaz didn’t have much experience with humans, but that was not right the color. He held out a hand and surgical scissors appeared in it from one of his aides.

He cut the fabric away slowly as the Champion writhed, breath simultaneously heavy and weak. He cut up from the wrist, carefully, and peeled back, revealing the mottled skin.

His assistants helped with the rest of it as Ulaz inspected the arm. It was severely infected, it had to go.

Ulaz’s eyes stopped on Shiro’s wrist. There was a mark there, discolored by the infection but decidedly lilac, the same shade as his own skin. It was an elegant little thing, several thin lines giving the impression of a wing, of flight.

He had an identical mark on his own wrist.

Fascinating.

It was a shame he’d lose the arm.

* * *

Ulaz fell out of the teleporter, confused, but immediately righted himself. His ears twitched.

This place was much more blue than the small ship he’d been stranded in, the warped twinkling of the stars and the cool violet of the ship his only companions in the fold of space.

He heard a whooping and looked around, catching the yellow and green paladins hitting their hands against each other. It seemed like some sort of celebration.

Had he been saved.

He blinked up and away from them to see Shiro, the Champion, older, stronger, even more inspiring than he had been, walk forward, left hand outstretched.

“Welcome back,” he said with a smile, “I have a lot to ask you.”

Ulaz looked at the hand. He seemed to be waiting for something. Ulaz remembered moments before, the small green one and the large yellow one and their hands. Ulaz straightened himself and moved his hand in slowly to tap Shiro’s and then—

Oh, Shiro’s hand wrapped around his. What was this human tradition?

Shiro cocked his head at him and looked down at Ulaz’s hand, limp in his own. He looked like he was about to say something when his eyes widened. He flipped Ulaz’s wrist and stopped breathing for a second.

This was an odd Earthen tradition.

He looked up, and back down to the mark on his wrist. He started shaking.

Ulaz remembered Shiro’s own wrist. “You had a similar one, yes?”

The red paladin stepped up behind Shiro.

“Shiro, are you okay?” he asked. Shiro kept staring and the red one’s eyes widened with Shiro’s own.

“Your soulmate?” the red one whispered.

Shiro nodded.

“What is soulmate?” Ulaz finally asked, confused. “What is happening?”

Shiro finally caught his eyes and Ulaz saw the slight dew in their creases. The hand holding his own tightened.

“Do the Galra not have soulmates?”

Ulaz shook his head, again confused by the word that wasn’t quite translating. Shiro gave his hand one more squeeze and pulled him in for a tight embrace.

“I can tell you all about it later, but I’m so glad you’re back.”

Ulaz returned the hug. He looked forward to the explanation, but for now, it was enough to just hold the man who had saved his life in more ways than one.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter [@oldmythos](https://twitter.com/oldmythos)
> 
> tumblr [@oldmythos](http://oldmythos.tumblr.com)


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